


A Long Time Coming

by captaingriffin



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Steve Rogers, Emotional Constipation, F/F, Family Fluff, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Seriously why does Tony not listen to them, So is Carol, Steve and Sharon are cousins, Strangers to Lovers, Tony Feels, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 09:31:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19903555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaingriffin/pseuds/captaingriffin
Summary: “Good bachelorette party means good marriage, right? That’s how that saying goes? The ladies should thank us.”“I think you’re mixing up several different superstitions and then also adding your own spin on it,” Steve says. He moves to pull the handle of the car and step out, but waivers. “Hey, um, I know you said we have tomorrow morning free, but Sharon is tied up with some- wedding stuff, and believe it or not, I actually don’t know Boston all that well, so would you maybe want to show me around? We can do anything. I know you said you hate museums.”“Hmm, sure. I can think of something. Do not expect me to arrive before ten, though. I’m serious. Don’t call me at what you consider late morning, a.k.a. sunrise, and ask where I am,” Tony instructs.Tony and Steve are the best men at Natasha and Sharon's wedding, and through planning a bachelorette party, an aquarium date, lots of teasing, and ignoring good advice from the women in their lives, they somehow figure out how to make it work.





	A Long Time Coming

**Author's Note:**

> This has become a labor of love for me over the past couple of weeks, although it's an idea I had ages ago and could just never quite let go of. It's my longest fic yet, so I really hope you enjoy!
> 
> All mistakes are my own; when I finally finished this I was so excited to post it that I barely skimmed it over to proofread. Oh well.

When Natasha asks Tony to be her maid of honor, he’s pretty sure she’s joking.

It’s a perfectly reasonable thing to think. He’s a dude, for one, and thus incapable of being a _maid_ , but when he brings this up Tash just starts calling him “bro of honor” instead and it becomes a running gag. He is also quite possibly the worst person on planet Earth to be entrusted with typical wedding duties like planning a bachelorette party, given his propensity to forget all names, dates, and small details that he really shouldn’t, but Tash counters this by saying that he’ll make up for it when they go dress shopping, since his fashion sense is better than anyone else she knows. She’s not wrong.

Tony is also fully aware of the fact that her lifelong best friend moved to Japan a couple of years ago, and hasn’t spoken to her since. So he acquiesces, and is officially proclaimed the maid of honor.

Tash’s fiance, Sharon, is super likable. They do trivia night together a lot, and she’s the only person Tony’s ever met who didn’t immediately ask how he could be five years sober at twenty-five years old when she came with their friend group to a dry bar for the first time. She also makes really, outlandishly good brownies, which is a character trait that Tony appreciates on any person, but specifically on someone who regularly sees him crashed on Natasha’s couch after a bad break-up.

So basically, he’s really happy that they’re getting married, and he’s going to do everything within his maid of honor powers to make sure that his girls have the greatest weekend of their lives. Even if that means following Natasha around Sears for seven hours on his day off from work while she tags things for their gift registry.

“Do we need an ironing board?” she ponders.

“I don’t know, do you?” Tony rebuts. “Your clothes never seem wrinkly to me.”

“Well, I have an iron, but I don’t have an ironing board. I just do it on the floor, I have hardwood.”

“That seems economical to me. No on the ironing board, then.”

“What about a steamer?”

It’s an exercize in modern torture, all in all, but Tony will never get tired of Natasha’s company so he endures it. It’s been six years, now, since Tony graduated with two doctorate degrees and left her in the dust while she steadily chugged her way through a bachelor’s in computer programming, and yet they still have sleepovers and go see rom-coms together and gossip about their bosses over Sunday brunch. Tony cherishes her friendship, and he hopes that she never stops annoying him over inane debates about whether fleece or Egyptian cotton sheets are the comfiest to sleep on.

When they get back to Tash’s place, Sharon has dinner ready and _Parks and Rec_ already queued up on the TV. Tony’s theory that she’s actually a godly saint disguising herself to see what mortal life is like continues to hold water.

“I forgot to mention,” Sharon says, after they’ve stuffed themselves and planted their butts into the couch for the night. “I finally got a hold of Steve, after literal weeks of phone tag. He works way too much, and he hates his job, so I don’t know why he won’t quit. But anyways, he says he’ll be my best man, even though he can’t get up here before the wedding weekend itself. I told him it didn’t matter, that Tony would take care of me too. Right?”

“Duh,” Tony grins. “Double bachelorette coming at you. Who’s Steve, and why does he get to be called best man while I’m ‘bro of honor’?”

“My cousin,” Sharon laughs. “I haven’t seen him in a year, probably, but we talk as often as we can. He still lives down in Brooklyn, hating hipsters a little more every time a new one moves into his building. He’s like a miserable old man.”

“Is he really still not pursuing art?” Natasha asks incredulously. “We all saw that mural he did for the church.”

“I guess he just doesn’t think he can make a living off of it.”

“That seems overly sane. We’re millennials, we’re the generation that was fed ‘follow your dreams’ bullshit from the second we left the womb,” Tony remarks.

“You would say that, you love your job so much that sometimes you literally don’t come home for days at a time.”

“In my defense,” Tony tells Sharon, “it wasn’t an easy road to get here. I was supposed to do the practical thing with my life, but I was basically kicked out of my family’s nest like a baby bird without a guardian angel to tell me how to handle it.”

“Here’s to living your best life now, then,” Tash announces, getting up and then returning from the kitchen brandishing three spoons and a carton of ice cream like trophies.

Natasha was there when the whole getting-disowned thing went down. Rhodey had just enlisted, and Pepper had moved back to Malibu, but Natasha was there. She held his hand when he first told his dad that he was gay, and helped him find a cheap apartment and easy part-time job when it became apparent that he was no longer welcome to his billion-dollar trust fund and wouldn’t ever be again. It’s unspoken between them that she’ll never bring it up if Tony doesn’t first, since it’s still sort of an open wound. But he knows that she gets it, because she confessed to him, once, that she hasn’t spoken to her family since she was sixteen and doesn’t care if it stays that way forever.

They’ve lead really similar lives, in an odd way, which is maybe why they understand each other so well. Why Natasha gives him the ice cream first, and lets him pass it over to her when he’s good and ready.

* * *

When they go dress shopping for the first time, Tony cries. He keeps Sharon’s mom Peggy on Facetime so she can see it happen from all the way in England, and she doesn’t even cry at the image of her future daughter-in-law in a wedding gown, but Tony does. Tash knows exactly the style she wants, and she falls in love with the very first one she tries on, which is practical and so Natasha of her. It’s beautiful, though, and Tony doesn’t even care when the boutique lady has to bring him a box of tissues.

Peggy tells her that she looks stunning, and that Sharon will be beside herself with tears when she sees Tash for the first time. Natasha simply agrees with her, grinning at herself in the mirror.

“I don’t lack self-esteem most days, but right now I just feel really, really… extra beautiful,” Tash says quietly.

Tony smiles softly at her. “You should.”

He also gets pulled into other wedding planning duties that he really wasn’t intending to help with, such as hunting down addresses and picking fonts for the invitations, and touring vineyards upstate when it’s not too unbearably hot out. Admittedly, Tony does enjoy the cake tasting, though. He even gets to bring a slice home, and it’s what he takes for lunch to work the next day. All of his coworkers are jealous, especially Bruce, who got married to his high school sweetheart at city hall when they were nineteen and thus never had a proper wedding cake. Tony shares a tiny bit with him.

As summer gets closer, so does the wedding, and Tony is given the elusive Steve’s phone number from Sharon so they can start coordinating bachelorette stuff. The first couple times he tries to call, it rings endlessly and then dumps him at voicemail, with no recorded message from Steve himself, but rather just a robot telling him what to do. Tony hasn’t left a voicemail in years, he hasn’t even really called anyone in years, so he hangs up and just vows to try again later.

It’s a couple weeks before Steve finally picks up, but still not before a reasonable number of rings. “As I’ve said before, I’m Catholic, so I’m really not interested in becoming a Jehovah’s Witness,” he says, not giving Tony a chance for a word edgewise.

He rebounds quickly. “I’m an atheist myself, so no worries. Have the Jehovah’s Witnesses really started a call list now? I guess they realized no one’s gonna answer the door to them anymore.”

“Er- sorry, who is this then?”

“Oh, I’m Tony, your fellow bro of honor. We need to talk bachelorette party; firstly, are strippers a yes or a no? Tash would love it way more than she acts like she would, I promise.” Tony knows his best friend well, and he sees straight through the hardass, unfeeling, joyless mask she puts up. Natasha cries during animated Disney movies, and would absolutely die of laughter if a stripper started getting all up on her.

“Right! Hi, Tony. I think no on the strippers. Sharon said she wanted something low-key.”

“Low-key and strippers are not mutually exclusive,” Tony remarks. “We do dinner, we go dancing, and if a few shirts happen to come off, it’s all part of the fun.”

“You kind of sound like you just want to have naked ladies there.” He doesn’t sound judgemental, but he also clearly isn’t purely cracking a joke for the joy of it. Tony isn’t quite sure what to make of that.

“I’m gay, so you’re definitely reading my tone wrong,” Tony says flippantly. He’s out and proud, now, but the act of saying it to new people will always cause him to brace for a bad reaction. Thanks for that one, Howard.

“Maybe I am. I’m tired from work, sorry. Could we do this tomorrow morning? I guess my brain doesn’t really have the capacity to think about partying when it’s been so focused on Microsoft Excel all day,” Steve says, suddenly sounding very exasperated.

“What kind of place do you work that still uses Microsoft Excel? If you show your boss Google Sheets, he’ll probably promote you. Okay, sorry. I’ll let you go. We’ll talk soon.”

So Tony’s first impression of Steve is nothing too strong, although Steve probably thought Tony was borderline crazy, which is what most people think of him. Sharon promises that he’s awesome, though, and Tony obviously trusts her, even though when they next talk, all of the slightly teasing remarks are gone from Steve’s tone and they focus solely on planning the party and the details therein, no matter how hard Tony tries to change this.

“You know you sound like your soul has been sucked out by a vacuum literally every time we talk, right?” Tony asks him, in the middle of one of their phone calls when he mentions putting together a document of all the possible guests and Steve audibly groans.

“That’s because you always call me after work, and I’m just tired. Why do you literally never sound tired every time we talk, huh?” Steve counters.

“Because I don’t hate myself, and I have a job I genuinely enjoy. Why don’t you quit?”

“Not all of us are lucky enough to make a living off our passions. Good for you, though. Look, can we just drop it?”

“Sharon’s always saying that you should be doing art stuff. Are you any good, or is it ‘bunny in a snowstorm’ art? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, I’m not sure we can be friends if you consider that talent.”

Steve sighs, like he’s finally accepting the fact that this is their topic of conversation now. “I went to art school, which was a poor decision. My plan was graphic design, but it didn’t work out, so now I’m a mindless corporate office drone with no future. You don’t have to tell me that, I already know. And, anyways, we’re not friends.”

“Yes, we are,” Tony insists. “We talked on the phone while I was in the shower. That makes us friends.”

“God, Tony. Was that what that noise was? How is your phone not destroyed?”

“It’s totally waterproof, as well as shockproof, drop-proof, and idiot-proof. I built it myself after my iPhone ink spilled for the eight time. The general public wishes they had my phone,” Tony brags.

“Is that your job, the one that you keep telling me you love? You build phones?”

“Among other things. I work at a little organization that uses technology to solve the world’s many problems, so basically I’m a real-life superhero. Right now, my team is working on AI for litter cleanup.”

“And that actually works?”

“Not yet. The AI part, yeah. But now we have to figure out how to employ the bots in practical ways so that they do what they’re designed to do without running into traffic or something. It’s an ongoing process, but the puzzle is why I love it. Puts my overwhelmingly large brain to use.”

“I never knew you were a modern genius.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Steve. But now that we’re friends, you’ll learn.”

They decide that it would be nice if as many people as possible that Sharon and Tash requested be invited could come, so it’s best to do the party on the wedding weekend itself. Tash already made it clear that she doesn’t care about having alcohol at the party, because she’s always looking out for Tony, and Sharon understands, too, so there’s no hangovers to worry about while they’re trying to have family brunch the next day or something. Tony is outvoted on the strippers, but he catches Tash smirking at him even as she says no. He knows she would’ve enjoyed it, and she knows he knows.

Thus, the party comes together, and then all of a sudden, the week of the wedding is upon them.

Tony took off work to be as available as possible for any duties Natasha may decide to thrust upon him last-minute, and he ends up being put in charge of the welcome wagon, picking people up from the airport and shuttling them off to the hotel. On Saturday morning, rented buses will take all the guests to the actual wedding venue for the ceremony and reception, but the rehearsal dinner and other dozens of events, which all seem unnecessary to Tony, will be held in the city at various locations.

It’s a true Bostonian wedding, and Tony doesn’t even want to know how much it cost. Luckily, Natasha is practically rolling in cash thanks to her job at what was originally a little start-up company that took off like a skyrocket last spring. Tony has a feeling she saw that coming, and got in on the ground floor to lock down a future six-figure salary. She’s almost certainly psychic.

When Tony heads to fetch Peggy from the airport, lunch ready in the car because she’s flying in from London economy class and there’s no way that’s an enjoyable experience of any kind, Sharon and Tash tag along despite still having a hundred things to organize before Friday. A lot of hugs go around when they meet her at baggage claim, and even Tony is squished tightly into her open arms.

“It’s so nice to meet you, dear, officially,” Peggy beams down at him.

“You too,” Tony fidgets under her gaze. He hasn’t seen his own mother since he was seventeen, and though she was always kinder to him than Howard was, this head-patting, cheek-pinching attention is so unfamiliar to him now that it makes him squirm. “Lunch? You hungry? I assume you are a sane woman and stayed away from the airplane food.”

Peggy isn’t staying in a hotel, but rather at Sharon’s place, so they all head over there and end up camping out for the night, watching some British soap opera and chowing down while Peggy spills all sorts of gossip about family members in town for the wedding, like whose marriage is on the rocks and who’s pregnant but hiding it. She also inquires about how Steve is doing, but Sharon just shrugs and turns to Tony.

“I don’t know, how is Steve doing, Tony?”

“What do you mean?” he frowns.

“You talk to him every other day. I get one half-hearted reply to a text per week.”

“Really?” Peggy gasps. “Are you two flirting?”

“No,” Tony cries, fully aware that his denial of it makes it sound true. “Really. We’ve been planning your bachelorette party, if you haven’t noticed. If it was all up to me, we would be spending a week in Atlantic City, so you should be grateful I have Steve to bounce ideas off of.”

“It’s true. Usually, I act as Tony’s voice of reason, conscience, and general life coach, but it’s been nice to have to burden off my back lately,” Natasha grins.

“Oh, you be quiet,” Tony chastises. “We’re also working on a big surprise present, if you must know. Plus, I simply enjoy pestering him about his continued refusal to just quit his job.”

“What? Isn’t he doing those murals now?” Peggy asks.

“No, that was a one-time thing, I guess. You’ll have to convince him to finally free himself when he gets in tomorrow morning, mom. He always did have a soft spot for his Aunt Peg.”

As the conversation turns, Tony sneakily reaches down at pulls his phone out of his pocket.

_**Tony:** peggy’s here and we’re talking about you behind your back. just felt like you should be aware_

_**Steve:** Thanks for keeping me updated. I’m guessing it’s about my job?_

_**Tony:** im tapping my nose rn_

_**Steve:** How did I know?_

_**Steve:** Maybe I’m just ready for this weekend, to get away for a minute, but all this talk might be wearing me down. Quitting sounds really appealing right now, I don’t know._

_**Tony:** !!!! you should. we know best steve_

_**Steve:** You’ve known me about two months, Tony._

_**Steve:** Also, can I just say that the way you text still really annoys me?_

_**Tony:** no you may not,,,,, plus i knew tash for about 10 min before i was sure she was my platonic soulmate. time = social construct = fake._

_**Steve:** I’m a big fan of time myself. It keeps me from being late to things. Like picking up people from the airport._

_**Tony:** im NOT gonna be late steve omg you have 0 faith in me. i’ve picked every1 else up on time and been generally super reliable so gomd_

_**Steve:** I don’t know what that means and I don’t want to._

_**Steve:** I’ll pretend I trust you but seriously, don’t be late._

Tony scoffs aloud, and Natasha gives him a funny look. Peggy and Sharon have moved into the kitchen to wash dishes without Tony realizing, so she scoots closer to him and looks at his phone over his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re not flirting?” she asks him once she’s done.

“I don’t make moves on straight guys, Tash. Lesson learned with Rhodey on that one. My persona is just naturally coy.”

“Coy isn’t the word I would use, but whatever. I thought Steve was bi?”

“What?” Tony asks. “Is he?”

Tash nods. “Yeah, and out. He dated this guy Rumlow last summer that Sharon absolutely despised. She only met him once and was ready to saw his fingertips off.”

“That’s a lovely image,” Tony snorts. “Well, even if he is, there’s no sign that he’s interested. We’ve only talked about things other than the wedding, like, twice. So it’s not as if I’m interested either. But please don’t set me up with anyone.”

“I might have to set you up with someone,” Natasha admits, pressing her lips together. When Tony starts to interject, she continues on, saying, “You just always look really sad about third wheeling!”

“I thought you and Sharon liked hanging out with me!”

“What? We do. That’s not the point. You shouldn’t enjoy third wheeling, that’s weird. Plus, I want you to be happy and have a boyfriend who loves you and dotes on you like me and Sharon. Okay?”

“Okay,” Tony agrees begrudgingly. “Besides, it’s a total cliche for the best man and maid of honor to get together.”

* * *

Tony sets five alarms the next morning, and he is not late picking Steve up from the airport. He knows what Steve looks like, because Sharon showed him pictures-- and, actually, he’s kind of exactly Tony’s type with the whole tall muscular blonde thing going on-- so Tony waits in the baggage claim terminal until he spots him by the carousel spitting out bags from the New York City flight.

“Boo,” Tony says flatly, coming up behind him. Steve jumps anyways, and it takes a second before recognition dawns in his eyes and he stops standing so defensively.

“Hey!” Steve grins, holding a hand out for Tony to shake like they’re in a job interview or something. “Nice to actually meet you.”

“I wasn’t late, Steve,” Tony says, pointedly ignoring the hand. “Acknowledge that I wasn’t late and apologize for assuming I would be, please.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m glad to see that your personality translates just as well in person as it does over the phone, Tony. I’m very sorry for thinking you would be late, given the fact that you literally always call at least fifteen minutes after we make a plan to talk.”

“That’s because it’s dumb to make appointments to talk on the phone. God, it’s like you live in 2005. Do you need help with that bag? I hope not, because you look like you could bench press three of me, and I build robots to pick things up for me so that I don’t have to.”

In the car, Tony lets Steve pick the music, and then immediately regrets it when he turns on the eighties’ station. “You have dismal taste, Steve. I really want you to know how hard I’m restraining myself from changing the channel right now.”

“I appreciate it,” Steve mutters distractedly, looking at his phone. “Okay, what’s the schedule for today and tomorrow?”

“Me, you, Sharon, and Tash are doing brunch with Peggy today; I hope you like seafood because this is Boston and we’re seafood people here.”

“Right, and tonight is the bachelorette party.”

“Correct, and it’s going to be fantastic, our shared brilliance has put together what is quite possible the bash of the century.”

“Sure, if you want to call it that.”

“Tomorrow- Friday- night is the rehearsal dinner, but during the day you can do whatever. There are a couple good art museums that I wouldn’t be caught dead in, but the ladies would probably love to take you to.”

“I have to work on our surprise, which may I remind you that you have to contribute to,” Steve says, giving him a stern look.

“I don’t know where you got this impression that I’m some kind of flaky, unreliable miscreant, but it’s frankly offensive,” Tony gapes. “I said I’d help, so I will.”

“Sorry,” Steve replies the second Tony’s done talking. “I don’t think that about you. I’m just tired, you know, and I guess our many colorful conversations have my heckles risen.”

“Heckles? Is that something your thousand year old boss who still uses Microsoft says?” Tony jokes, in all seriousness unoffended by what Steve said. He knows he can come off a little prickly, but they’ve talked enough by now, even if only about wedding stuff, that he doesn’t care about censoring himself. Steve can judge him all he wants.

Steve flushes. “No.”

“Oh, so that’s something that’s actually in your daily vernacular, then?”

“Shh, I love this song,” Steve deadpans, leaning over to turn up the radio without realizing that it’s currently playing an advertisement for a fertility center, which makes Tony collapse into giggles and get ready to make another wisecrack. “Just- stop. Just watch the road.”

They check Steve into his hotel room at the swanky place Sharon and Tash chose to put up all the guests in. His jaw practically drops open at the lobby, with gold vintage furnishings and crystal chandeliers abound, let alone when they shuffle into the all-glass elevator with a view of the Bay as they head up to his suite.

“This feels really ostentatious,” Steve chokes out at the California King bed, all-tile bathroom and plush carpeting soft enough to sleep on. They’re high enough up that out the windows lies a sky view of Boston worthy of photographing, and god, does Tony love his city.

“You’re not paying for it,” Tony shrugs, hopping up onto the bed. “We’re meeting them in an hour if you want to shower. I’m going to appropriate your TV for a while, _Cupcake Wars_ is on.”

Steve gives him an incredulous look, but unzips his suitcase, grabs a plastic shower bag, and heads into the bathroom anyways. Tony texts Natasha to let her know that the eagle has landed, and then turns his attention to Jonathan Bennett and the frazzled competitors, each having a conniption fit about some little issues with the cupcakes that always go unnoticed at the end by the judges.

The water turns off after about five minutes, and Steve steps out of the bathroom, dripping a little but in the clothes he was wearing earlier. “Everything okay?” Tony asks, momentarily turning his attention from the pizza cupcake one baker is attempting to make.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” Steve wonders, pulling a sweatshirt out of his suitcase.

“I don’t know, that was just a crazy fast shower. Is there something wrong with the water?”

“No,” Steve frowns. “I guess I just take fast showers. The water bill adds up quickly.”

“Except this is a luxury hotel where you don’t have to pay your own utilities. You didn’t even want to- you know- in there?” Tony makes a lewd gesture which causes Steve to blush and look down at his feet quickly.

“Why would I do that with you sitting right out here?” Steve mumbles.

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t notice. Unless, oh my god, you’re a total screamer,” Tony suggests, wagging his eyebrows.

Steve shuts him down as fast as he possibly can. “I’m very uncomfortable with this conversation.”

“Okay, fine,” Tony acquiesces. “Seriously though, why do you get so worried about money when you clearly have a stable job? I thought the whole point of not pursuing art stuff was so that you would have a steady income, right?”

“I do have steady income,” Steve denies. “It’s just a habit now. I was a pretty poor kid, I had a single mom.” He moves the join Tony on the bed, then seems to think better of it and settles down into the loveseat against the opposite wall. Tony wouldn’t have minded if he sat down with him, but he’s currently kind of starfished across the bed and Steve actually might not have fit with the ridiculously long legs of his.

“So, what, you think having a boring job is the right thing to do? Your kids will never have to worry like you did, as long as they don’t notice that you’re totally miserable?”

Steve huffs out a long breath. “Kids seem pretty far away right now. I haven’t even had a date in a year.”

“It’s because you don’t have time, Steve. Because of your awful job.”

“Okay, why do our conversations always seem to circle back to this? Let’s go to lunch. We can be early, I don’t mind,” Steve breathes out, beginning to stand up and reach for his tennis shoes.

“No, fine, I’ll stop. In what world is getting to a restaurant forty minutes early a better plan than hanging out in a comfy paid-for hotel room and watching _Cupcake Wars_? If you don’t want to hang out with me just say so, Rogers.”

“I like you fine, Tony,” Steve says. “Let’s just talk about something else.”

“Alright. Want to… hear about something cool I’ve been researching?” He expects Steve to say no, because most people Tony’s met in his life don’t care all that much about his science babble and in fact actively root for him to not talk about it, but the guy nods excitedly like this is what he’s been waiting all morning for.

At first, Tony starts out hesitantly, not sure if Steve is just humouring him or if he even understands what Tony’s saying, but he appears raptly interested when Tony looks over, which encourages him to keep going. Steve cuts in to ask questions, sometimes, but other than that just lets him ramble, and the forty minutes passes by quickly.

They decide to leave Tony’s car at the hotel and take the T to get to brunch so that he doesn’t have to pay for parking. Because the Boston public transit system is light years ahead of the New York Subway, and no, Tony isn’t biased at all, they arrive on time, meeting up with the ladies outside the restaurant. There is a round of more hugs, particularly between Peggy and Steve, who dwarfs her but still looks like he can’t breathe in her embrace. Natasha and Steve have met before, but only briefly a couple times, so they shake hands and exchange pleasantries too.

Being much more organized and schedule-oriented than he is, Natasha had called ahead to make a reservation, but as soon as they’re seated, the waiter asks for drink orders, like he’s trying to hurry them through their meal to get through the people in line. Tony doesn’t blame him; he had to work a minimum wage job for a while, but he was completely unsuited to deal with finicky people pushing him around and demanding things from him. Those that can deal with it and still provide good service are a mystery to him.

Peggy orders a mimosa, and Tony tenses up just the tiniest bit. He’s responsible for his own sobriety, he knows that, and after a couple failed tries he’s now on a good streak, no longer feeling like his chest is going to cave in if he doesn’t have a drink when he gets stressed out. But it’s just… easier, if he doesn’t have to think about it at all. Natasha hasn’t even kept vodka in the house since Tony finally committed to staying sober, and she’s Russian.

“Oh, mom,” Sharon cuts in. “Sorry, just- can you get something else?”

“No, it’s okay,” Tony smiles tightly. “You should get it, if you want it. Don’t worry about me.”

“What? Oh! No, that’s fine, I’ll just have a regular orange juice, then,” Peggy says, upon getting a sharp look from Sharon.

The waiter looks unperturbed, taking everyone else’s orders and then whisking away. Tony feels uncomfortable and awkward now, like he always does when new people draw attention to the fact that he can’t drink alcohol or even be around it. He knows by heart the questions that always follow, and the sympathetic looks he gets after explaining his situation to them, not that he ever tells the whole truth.

Except that doesn’t happen. Steve swiftly asks Sharon about something regarding her wedding dress, if she’d tried it on after the alterations, and then everyone’s off and chatting. Natasha reaches over the table nonchalantly and clutches Tony’s hand, squeezing it tightly while contributing to the conversation all the while. The uneasiness leaves his body like a deep exhale.

Tony knows that Steve probably knows-- when they were planning the bachelorette, he never once brought up purchasing alcohol or hiring a bartender. It’s Sharon’s doing, of course, but it made things just a little easier on Tony, which was nice.

The moment is quickly forgotten as Tony jumps in at the first opportunity to poke fun at Tash when the proposal story is brought up. “I helped this woman study for the final exams that determined if she was going to get a degree or not, but right before the proposal was still the most nervous I’ve ever seen her. Her hands were actually shaking, which I didn’t think she was physically capable of.”

“It was very sweet,” Sharon grins, “She dropped the ring when she went to put it on my finger.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Other people can think I’m infallible. You guys are my family, you’re allowed to know the truth. Just don’t tell anyone else, or I’ll kill you.”

Tony and Sharon exchange smirks. “Don’t be afraid of Tash,” he says to Steve. “She bought me a stuffed animal for my eighteenth birthday instead of a pack of cigarettes, which is what I asked for.”

“Please. You said yourself that Friday helped get you through the breakup with Ty, and if I’d gotten you cigarettes, you would have caught one whiff of them and thrown them out. I know you.”

“So, wait, you guys have known each other since high school?” Steve asks.

“Tony actually started college four years before me,” Natasha begins to explain. “So, we were both around eighteen, but I was taking an Intro to Computer Science class my first year at MIT and he was the TA. The year after that, he ditched me with two doctorate degrees in hand, but we stayed close.”

“Sorry, you went to college when you were fourteen?” Steve’s head whips over to Tony, jaw gaping a little, as most people’s do when they learn this about him.

“Yeah,” Tony admits. “I told you I was a genius, Rogers.”

“That’s quite an accomplishment, Tony,” Peggy laughs. “Your parents must have been so proud of you.”

Tony falls silent. He knows Peggy is just being nice, trying to prompt him to launch into some knee-slapping story about his parents putting up with his antics when he was a toddler prodigy, but he actually doesn’t have any stories like that. The only thing that comes close is when he made his first circuit board at four years old, and thought his dad bringing a nice woman over to ask him questions about it and take his picture meant that maybe he’d finally done something prideworthy. He knows the truth, now, that Tony was never going to please Howard because Howard was just never going to care.

“Well, I don’t know about that. But Jarvis and Ana were,” Tony smiles. He didn’t prepare to give his sob story today, and also he doesn’t want to put a damper on the wedding celebration, so he moves into a more comfortable area. “My- I guess you could say nanny- and his wife. When I got in to MIT, Ana made me this red velvet cake that I still get sick thinking about, because it was so good I ate the whole thing.”

“That’s a lovely image,” Steve snorts. “You sure do eat a lot for such a little guy.” He looks pointedly down at Tony’s plate, which five minutes ago was full of scrambled eggs and hashbrowns but is now wiped clean.

Tony sputters at him. “I’m not little, Rogers, I’m compact. Besides, you can hardly talk, Sharon’s shown me pictures of you guys when you were little. A swift breeze could have pushed you over.”

“Yeah, that happened a couple times,” Steve mutters resentfully.

Tony dissolves into laughter, and catches Natasha giving him an odd look, with a little smile like she knows all his secrets. He closes his mouth immediately.

* * *

The bachelorette party of the century, according to Tony, is being held at a little restaurant by the docks that’s entirely open-air, with only a wooden lattice overhead intertwined with blossoming red flowers and vines. Tony and Steve get there early to set up, because they rented the place out for the night, and start stringing fairy lights and pushing tables to the side where the caterers can set up all the food. The two of them argue over music selection for a while, but eventually they have a playlist set up on Tony’s phone, which he hooks up to the speaker system and puts on shuffle.

Without alcohol and without strippers, it’s definitely not a typical bachelorette party, but there’s karaoke and other party games, and honestly, Tony knows that Tash and Sharon would both just appreciate a few hours spent with their friends after all the hectic wedding planning the last few months. Still, he doesn’t want it to feel lackluster, or like there’s something missing, so Steve had the inspired idea to rent a little speedboat, which he has a license to drive, apparently, and take it out on the water throughout the night on little jaunts around the Bay to look at the night lights of the city.

The whole thing is a stroke of genius on both Tony and Steve’s parts. The ladies are going to love it.

As people start to arrive, Tony moves into hosting duty, welcoming them and giving them the lay of the land. When Maria and Carol show up, he introduces them to Steve, and of course they get along swimmingly. He doesn’t know everyone, though, in particular Sharon’s work friends, who are just on the wrong side of scary and don’t really say anything at all when Tony comes up to say hi. In fact, they sort of stare him down menacingly until Steve comes up behind Tony and rescues him, shaking hands with all of them and herding them over to the snack table.

Sharon and Tash show up arm in arm in stunning dresses, looking every bit the put-together, chic couple they are. The group cheers, and Sharon curtsies jokingly. The party kicks into full swing, then; people dancing and chatting and munching on what look to be painstakingly hand-rolled finger sandwiches, provided by the restaurant. Tony had told Steve during one of their phone calls that the party had to be catered, because he doesn’t like cooking and also can’t be trusted to do it without setting his kitchen aflame. Steve had just laughed, and agreed that they should hold it at a restaurant so they can get other people to do it for them.

The decorations are a Tony and Steve joint effort from a trip to Party City they took after brunch earlier, despite how Steve complained the whole time about his artist’s instincts yelling at him for purchasing flimsy paper streamers and aluminum balloons rather than doing something more creative and personal.

“If we had the time to do that, I would say go crazy,” Tony had told him, riding on the front of the shopping cart while Steve pushes it around the store. “But you’re the one who only flew in today.”

“I know, I’ve missed out on so many extra days of Tony time,” Steve replied distractedly, looking at the price of some kind of glow stick necklace. He frowned, and slid it back onto the shelf, apparently having deemed it far too high.

“Well, as much as I love making things all about me, you missed out on planning stuff with Sharon, too. She wanted you here ages ago, but you were always so swamped with work. At least doing the bachelorette party today worked out, I guess, cause getting all this together alone would have been so not fun.”

“Glad to be helpful,” Steve said, then paused, thinking for a moment. “I miss her too. We hung out all the time when we were little. Our moms would make the most British dinners ever, like bangers and mash British, and we would play soccer outside while they cooked. Sharon always had to pretend to run slower than she really could ‘cause I wouldn’t be able to keep up otherwise.”

Tony looked him in the eyes. “You could come visit more. She would like that.”

Steve sighed. “Maybe. Let’s just- which of these do you like better?” he asked, pointing to two flowery balloon designs.

“The one that looks like boobs, duh.”

Steve had shot him a look, and then grabbed the other one.

Looking around at the restaurant now, Tony can admit Steve made the right call. The vaguely boob-ish balloons would have leaned into the whole “this is a bachelorette party for two lesbians” thing a little too heavily.

Natasha drags him out on the dance floor at some point, and he sweats through a rendition of “Single Ladies” with her, even though she isn’t single and he isn’t a lady. He does, admittedly, know all the choreography, so it would have been hard to get out of, anyways. At least, that’s what he tells himself when he’s grinning at her and his heart feels so full of happiness for her and her future that it might explode, to avoid doing something embarrassing like crying tears of joy in the middle of a party.

When Tony sees Steve standing all by himself over by the drinks table, cradling a Coke bottle in his hand like a lifeline, he waves him over enthusiastically. Steve shakes his head, but Tony stomps over to him determinedly. “This is a party, Steve. You don’t have to chain yourself to the sidelines, no one’s gonna want to go out on the boat until it’s dark. Come dance.”

“I don’t want to,” Steve refuses. “I look really stupid when I dance.”

“Literally who cares,” Tony says. “Everyone’s too busy having their own fun to pay attention to you. So come dance with me, okay? Do you know the wobble? Whatever, you’ll catch on.”

Steve hesitates, but eventually does put down his soda and allow himself to be yanked by Tony out onto the dance floor. It takes him a minute to get into it, finally loosening up and bobbing up and down to the beat like he’s a seventh grade boy at winter formal trying to look cool for the girls. It’s better than nothing, though.

As soon as it’s deemed dark enough to really enjoy going out on the water, Steve chains himself to the dock and takes little groups of people out on fifteen minutes jaunts around before pulling back in and picking up the next few. It’s silently universally agreed that Sharon and Tash should get to go by themselves, and Tony notices that they’re gone for a few minutes longer than usual. He hopes Steve is showing them a good time.

When it’s finally his turn, he climbs in with Maria, Carol, and Jan, who was fashionably late as always, with her new boyfriend in tow. Tony thinks his name is Hank, and it’s clear he’s perfect for Jan the second he hands over his phone for her to take pictures with, as her own is perpetually out of storage.

“Tony, I have to say, this is not the party I expected you to put together,” Maria confesses. She works with Tash, so he peripherally knew her for a while, until she was officially inducted into their friend group when a guy tried to grab Natasha’s ass on the subway and Maria socked him in the jaw. Tony high-fived her afterwards.

“Thank Steve. He was sort of the angel on my shoulder during the whole process,” he answers, winking at Steve when he hears his name and turns to look.

“If Steve is your angel, who does that make your devil?” Carol asks, bemused.

“I am the devil on my own shoulder,” Tony declares.

“On mine, too,” Jan chimes in. “Last year, this little local singer guy was playing in the coffee shop we frequent- they do mochas the best- and he was completely staring me down, so afterwards Tony told me I should go up to him and say hi,” she explains, for Hank’s benefit. The rest of them, sans Steve, have heard her rant about this event several times. “It was a complete disaster.”

“You dated for seven months!” Tony defends himself. “You said he was the nicest guy you’d ever been with.”

“Exactly, that’s why it was a disaster.”

Steve shakes his head in silent laughter as Jan launches into an explanation of why nice guys are the worst boyfriends, much to Hank’s confusion. The boat stops, suddenly, and Tony turns in his seat to look back at the city. It glows golden, almost blinding, reflecting off the water and highlighting the glass skyscrapers that would be practically invisible if not for the hazy light of the street lamps and search beams coming from the tops of buoys further out in the water.

“Pretty beautiful, huh?” Steve says softly.

“I know how loyal you are to your girl Brooklyn,” Tony says, “so I’m glad you’re able to admit that.”

Steve huffs out a laugh and guns the engine, slowly driving them back to shore. “I’ll always be a Brooklyn slums kid, no matter where I may end up in the future.” His voice goes quiet at the end there.

“And where might that be?” Tony asks him, looking up to meet his eyes. He keeps his tone hushed, too, although he doesn’t have to, because everyone else in the party is talking amongst themselves.

Steve’s smile is tight, and he shrugs. “I guess I don’t know yet.”

“You don’t have to. You’re young.”

“I’m almost thirty,” Steve says. “You know, in high school, when they ask you where you see yourself in ten years? This wasn’t it.”

“So do something about it,” Tony nudges him. “It’s that easy, Steve.”

He doesn’t say anything else, but his eyebrows pull together in a pensive way. Tony hopes Steve knows that despite all the teasing remarks about his job, enjoying your career is legitimately important to having a happy life, and without that piece, something will always feel missing.

When they get back to the dock, Tony notices that the crowd has thinned out a little. Sharon is by the door, hugging people as they leave, and Tash is waiting right inside, leaned up against a support beam with her arms crossed. Once he steps out of the boat, she’s coming to meet him, encircling his arm with hers and dragging him away from the group.

“I loved the party. Thank you, Tony,” she says sincerely. “The surprise was great, too. I’m sorry for poking fun at you for talking to Steve so much.”

“Wait, what surprise? It’s not here yet. I mean, it hasn’t happened yet.”

“The boat?” Natasha raises an eyebrow. “That wasn’t it, you have something else coming?”

“Of course I do,” Tony scoffs. “This is my best friend’s wedding, after all. You really think I wouldn’t go all out?”

Tash turns him to face her. “You’re my best friend too, Tony. I… If I hadn’t met you, I don’t even know what my life would be like right now. But I know it would be worse without you in it.”

It’s the nicest thing she’s ever said to him. He has to sniff hard to keep tears from falling, but his eyes water uncontrollably. “Yeah, okay.”

“You ass!” Natasha laughs, punching his shoulder. “I just said something so sweet to you, and that’s how you’re going to respond? I’m leaving. Have a nice night.”

Tony grins as he watches her go.

He and Steve have to hang back a while even after everyone else has left, to clean things up and put all the furniture back where it’s supposed to be. Tony puts on eighties’ music when Steve asks him to, complete with a puppy dog aw-shucks smile and everything. Every instinct in his body fights against it, though it’s futile.

At the end of the night, when Tony pulls up in front of Steve’s hotel, they high-five for a job well done. “Good bachelorette party means good marriage, right? That’s how that saying goes? The ladies should thank us.”

“I think you’re mixing up several different superstitions and then also adding your own spin on it,” Steve says. He moves to pull the handle of the car and step out, but waivers. “Hey, um, I know you said we have tomorrow morning free, but Sharon is tied up with some- wedding stuff, and believe it or not, I actually don’t know Boston all that well, so would you maybe want to show me around? We can do anything. I know you said you hate museums.”

“Hmm, sure. I can think of something. Do not expect me to arrive before ten, though. I’m serious. Don’t call me at what you consider late morning, a.k.a. sunrise, and ask where I am,” Tony instructs.

They shake hands in agreement. “Deal.”

* * *

Normally, Tony would be abhorred by the idea of doing anything touristy in Boston. He doesn’t care about the supposed history, although certain websites do their best to make “maybe walking on the same street some dead white guy who signed the Constitution walked on” sound riveting. But when he proposes the idea of the aquarium to Steve the next morning, when they meet up in the lobby of his hotel so Tony can get free coffee from the breakfast bar, the guy looks so excited he might vibrate out of his skin.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Tony mutters, refilling his cup.

It’s like babysitting a kid in a candy store. Steve wants to see _everything_ , even the little fish in tanks of a thousand of them that aren’t even that cool, and he even stops to read the placards that talk about the species of fish and its origins. Tony itches to move faster, so whenever Steve pauses for what he personally considers to be a little too long, Tony grabs his hand and pulls him along to the next exhibit. They stay at the penguins for a while, though, and that he doesn’t mind so much because they’re cute and kind of dumb. One falls over on its face when it waddles a little too fast, and Steve chuckles when Tony point it out, giggling hysterically.

After a while, they get lunch in the aquarium cafe, outrageously expensive, of course, and Steve splurges for a plastic whale-shaped cup with a straw that looks like water spitting out of its blowhole. He says he thinks it’s funny, and Tony agrees with him once he sees Steve drink out of it. It’s completely hilarious.

Conversation between them the whole day is easy and lighthearted. They point out things around them, mostly sarcastic comments on Tony’s part, and every now and then it drifts to their personal lives. Steve tells him about his best friends Bucky and Sam, who he lived with up until a year ago when they fell in love and then finally moved out, to both his disappointment and relief, as he stopped having to put in earplugs at nighttime.

“So- okay, I got disowned while I was in college, right? This isn’t the story, I just have to mention that because otherwise it doesn’t make sense. Luckily, MIT practically threw scholarship money at me so that I could stay, but I had to find a super cheap apartment, fast. Tash taught me how to use Craigslist, and I ended up at this place with four other guys who were definitely ex-convicts, which is, like, fine, but one of them sleepwalked into my bedroom sometimes, and whenever he did, he would steal something. I would wake up, and he’d be grabbing my watch off my dresser. He sleep-stole.”

“That definitely beats my story,” Steve nods. He turns somber, smile falling off his face, when he asks, “Is that why you didn’t mention your parents at brunch? When Aunt Peggy asked?”

Tony hesitates. “Yeah. I came out, and they didn’t like it. But I guess things were always bad… before that.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says immediately, and it somehow doesn’t sound cheap, coming from him. “I’ll say something uncomfortable too, if you want. Even the playing field.”

Just like that, Tony’s back to ear-to-ear grinning again. “Go ahead. I won’t stop you.”

“Okay, um. The last time I had sex, I put my fist through the wall by accident and my landlord at the time, who was my ex-girlfriend, had to come fix it. She definitely knew what it was from.”

Tony keels over he’s laughing so hard, and the lady next to them at the angelfish tank shoots Steve a dirty look while shuffling her children away in a hurry.

They shamelessly pet stingrays alongside five year olds in matching bright yellow shirts advertising some kind of summer camp, and the lady working the exhibit-- who looks so overly excited to be here Tony knows she’s faking for the paycheck-- lets Steve hold a starfish. He makes Tony take a photo.

“Is this going to be your new lockscreen, Steve?” Tony jokes. Steve doesn’t answer, which is very telling.

Tony is dead on his feet by the end of the whole ordeal, but he’s glad Steve is having fun. The last thing he forces Tony to go to is a dolphin show, where the trainers make them do tricks for the audience. It’s actually pretty cool, but Tony does a quick Google search on how the animals here are treated just to make sure they deserve his cheering before he does it. Everything checks out.

“Thank you for taking me here today, Tony,” Steve says as they meander around the gift shop on their way out. Tony may or may not be buying a penguin keychain.

“Fun’s not over yet,” he responds. “If you want, we could do a duck tour, or we could hit up Dunkin’ Donuts. That’s the most Bostonian thing you’ll do this whole trip.”

“A duck tour?” Steve asks. “Like, looking at ducks?”

Tony wishes he lived in a world where he, too, was ignorant to the atrocity that is duck tours. “No, it’s like a vehicle that goes both on land and in the water. You do a tour around the city, like landmarks, and shit. You think I would suggest something as boring as looking at ducks? I’m a little offended.”

“I dunno. You seem like the type to drop bread on the ground to make a bunch of them come to you, and then start running around and screaming and waving your arms to scare them off again.”

Tony chortles. “That’s- pretty accurate, actually. You really get me, Rogers.”

Steve smiles brightly at him. “You know, you were right.”

“About what? I have no doubt that I was, but you’ll have to be a bit more specific. I’m right a lot, you see.”

“That we make good friends,” Steve says, knocking Tony’s elbow with his own. “You suffered through a day at the aquarium for me. I appreciate it. I probably would’ve just moped around my hotel room without you, and this is supposed to be a vacation for me.”

“It’s really sad that you consider a family gathering, of which you had to organize a significant part, a vacation,” Tony reminds him. “But I digress.”

“Thank you,” Steve says gently. “No to the duck tour. We only have about two hours until we need to be back at the hotel for the rehearsal dinner, so we might as well just go ahead and get ready.”

“You get ready for things two hours before you have to be there? That seems really excessive. Don’t you want to spend more time with me, Steven?”

Steve’s face draws back up into a smile. “Shockingly, I do. But after we get ready-- you didn’t let me finish, always so ready to make your next quip-- we need to spend a little time working on our surprise. Your part is ready, right?”

“Of course. I might be a slacker, but this is my best friend’s wedding. If there’s a time to put effort into anything, it’s now,” Tony says.

“I don’t think you’re a slacker. I’ve just been joking around with you, Tony, I hope you know that.” Steve’s tone couldn’t be more sincere, and he meets Tony’s eyes like it’s really important for him to understand this.

“I know that,” Tony replies, rolling his eyes. Emotions make him itchy sometimes. “I should be asking you if you got your part done, considering you barely had time for five minute phone calls with me.”

“And we’re back to this again, great.”

* * *

As promised, Steve’s part of their present is practically done, with only a few things to fix before it’s perfect, according to him. The first thing Tony feels when he looks at it is shock, followed quickly by awe. If Sharon and Tash don’t cry when they see it, he’ll eat his tie.

After Steve takes another five-second shower and throws on his suit so that he doesn’t have to worry about it later, they go back to Tony’s place, because Steve says he feels like he doesn’t have room to work in his hotel room, whatever that means. The apartment is kind of a wreck, since Tony lives alone and doesn’t have a reason to keep his exposed wires and heat-sensitive metalworking tools hidden away like he did when he had roommates. Half-finished projects are strewn all over the living room, which doesn’t have any furniture besides his workbench and a couch he fished out of someone’s trash a year ago that sinks to the floor when you sit down in it.

The walls are pretty bare, too, but that’s because all of Tony’s nerdy Star Trek posters are in his bedroom where he can appreciate them. The living room is his engineering zone, despite obviously not being built for that, and Tony sort of lives in fear of burning down the building and angering his landlord, Phil.

When Steve sees it all, he just laughs and says it’s exactly how he pictured Tony would live. It’s either a huge compliment or a total dig at Tony, but he can’t be sure which.

Tony tells Steve to set up wherever he wants, and he ends up pushing the couch out of the way a little to make room for him to sit on the hardwood floor by the window. Quickly absorbed in his project, he doesn’t respond when Tony asks him if that’s actually a comfortable spot for Steve, so he guesses it must be alright.

Because Tony is a sane person and knows he doesn’t need to get ready for the rehearsal dinner until right before they have to leave, he also decides to mess around with one of his works in progress. It’s sort of for work, but also partially for his own edification; he wants to create a new alloy that’s virtually indestructible, for use building robots or machine parts that need to not be easily breakable. So far, gold-titanium has shown some promise, so Tony loads up the statistical scenarios on his computer again-- which has, of course, been modified to suit his own desires, because Apple can’t make quality shit to save its life-- and starts to fiddle with them, inputting new parameters and running the tests.

Silently, Tony and Steve share the room and focus on their respective projects. It should be uncomfortable, working with someone else by your back, but it’s actually kind of nice. When Tony is home, he’s usually alone, so it’s a good change. Tash has renamed his apartment his “accident waiting to happen”, and mostly refuses to come over unless he really begs.

Time passes quickly, and before Tony knows it, his alarm is going off, jolting him out of an inventing reverie. Steve appears similarly dazed, looking up from his own work questioningly.

“I have to go get dressed. We’re leaving in twenty minutes,” Tony calls behind him, hurrying into his bedroom where he already has his suit laid out and ready for wear. Most of the time he alotted himself for getting ready is devoted to doing his hair, in an attempt to make it look as un-bedraggled as possible and, for once, not like he just rolled out of bed after a really wild sleep.

Steve, the total Boy Scout that he is, comes to knock on the bathroom door to let him know they have five minutes, now. Tony deems his appearance as good as it’s going to get, and opens the door.

He jumps backwards when he realizes Steve is still standing right in the doorframe, frozen with his eyes on Tony. “Wow,” Steve stutters out. “You look- good. It’s a, uh, nice suit.”

“Thanks,” Tony beams. He doesn’t mention the fact that it’s left over from when he had regular duties as the Stark heir to attend horrifically boring benefits and fancy parties, and that it still fits because Tony is twenty-five years old and his body has somehow remained the size of his sixteen year old self. It doesn’t matter. He knows it accentuates his legs in just the right way. “I hope you didn’t muss yourself up too much in the last hour.”

“No, I’m good, I checked to be sure,” Steve nods. “Are you driving again?”

The rehearsal dinner is being held in a small ballroom at Steve’s hotel, and most of the guests in attendance will be people Tony knows or has met over the last week, unlike the wedding itself, when he already knows he’ll be forgetting names the second they’re told to him.

He and Steve are seated at one of the front tables with the other bridal party members, almost entirely made up of Tony’s circle of friends. Sharon and Natasha are sitting at the table to their left, with Sharon’s close family. Tony feels a small, short ping of sympathy for Tash; she doesn’t have any family here because she doesn’t have any family to invite. It fades as fast as it comes, though, since he knows she considers her friends her real family, and they’re all here for her.

First, Sharon makes a speech thanking everyone for coming, with a few funny anecdotes thrown in about how hard it was to plan all of this, with everyone scattered across the globe. She speaks about how happy she is to share this weekend with all of them, and Tony catches Natasha looking up at her with shining eyes, like she’s staring right into the sun. It’s an expression of pure adoration and love, one he’s noticed on her face often when she’s around Sharon.

He wants to be able to look at someone like that, one day, and for that someone to look back at him the same way.

Tony turns to Steve, but Steve doesn’t notice.

In his heart, deep in his chest, there’s a pang that hurts him viscerally. And Tony knows what it means.

Later, when dinner has been served and Sharon and Tash are making their rounds, saying hi to guests and drawing their attention, Tony grabs Carol as nonchalantly as possible and pulls her outside, into the hallway and out of view of the ballroom.

“Okay normally Tash would be the first one I tell but she’s otherwise occupied,” Tony begins, breathing heavily almost to the point of hyperventilating. Carol puts a hand on his shoulder worriedly, silently imploring him to speak. “I think I like Steve.”

“What, like-like him? Why’s that got you in such a tizzy?” she asks, brows drawing together. “That’s a good thing.”

“No it’s not,” Tony argues, “because there’s no way he likes me back. We literally just met for the first time on Thursday. Why am I like this? Why, Carol?”

“I don’t know, but you really need to calm down,” she says. “Here, sit. Why would you think he doesn’t like you? It seems to me that you get along really well.”

“But that’s not the same as romantic like.”

“Well, no, but maybe it could grow in to that. You’re making assumptions based on two days together,” she reminds him. Tony hates that all his friends are so level-headed and reasonable. It’s a good thing he has Jan to go to when he needs a healthy dose of drama and empathy. Maybe he should’ve grabbed her from the table instead.

“So I’m just supposed to pine and suffer while he goes back to his life two hundred miles away and hope beyond hope that we stay in touch and maybe, in a couple weeks, he calls me to tell me he wants to date? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I think the definition of ‘ridiculous’ is falling for a guy you’ve just met,” Carol laughs.

“Stop being sensible and just feel bad for me, please.”

“Okay, fine,” she agrees, encircling him in her arms and allowing him to lean over on her shoulder. It immediately relaxes him, burrowing in the space where her collarbone meets her neck.

He really loves his friends. They’re _his_ family, too, and they support him even when he’s being dumb. But realizing that he has a crush on Steve doesn’t feel like a dumb thing, it feels like a really, really big thing, despite his brain yelling at him that it’s only been two days. Because in actuality, it’s been a lot longer than that, and Tony thinks that ever since their first conversation when Steve mistook him for a Jehovah’s Witness, he’s been heading towards this conclusion.

And Tony doesn’t get all poetic for just anyone.

Carol’s stomach hilariously rumbles after a few minutes, so they make their way back inside. Natasha is apparently the only one who noticed that they left, because of course she did, and given Tony a questioning look from her seat when he meets her eyes. He simply shakes his head, motioning his arms to hopefully convey that he’ll tell her later. She looks satisfied by that, and returns to her meal.

“Hey! Where did you two run off to?” Steve jokes his head as Tony slides back in beside him.

“Uh, bathroom.”

“Well, you missed my Uncle Michael completely bursting into tears when Sharon gave him a hug. I think you would’ve found that funny.”

“Maybe,” Tony mumbles.

Their plates are eventually cleared away and the night starts winding down, but Steve hangs back to catch up with some of his and Sharon’s family members. Natasha has to stay, too, out of obligation, but Tony escapes and decides to head home for the night. He’ll make apologies in the morning if anyone gets mad at him for running out, but he’s honestly just completely wiped after this whole day. He wants to sleep for a thousand years, and he probably would if it wasn’t his best friend’s wedding tomorrow.

When he’s finally collapsed in bed, watching old _Star Trek_ reruns on his phone to mellow himself out, he gets a text from Steve.

_**Steve:** Goodnight, Tony! Sorry I missed you. Thanks for keeping me company today._

It’s shitty to ignore him just because Tony’s wallowing in his feelings, but he honestly can’t think of anything to say, so it goes unanswered. Besides, they both have to be at the vineyard bright and early to help the ladies get ready and make sure everything is being organized just how they want it, and Tony already agreed to drive Steve there, so they can just talk then.

Tomorrow is about Sharon and Natasha. He can put his self-pity aside for one day, and instead focus all his efforts on making sure everyone goes off without a hitch. That’s his job, after all, as bro of honor.

He kind of curses their names, though, when his alarm goes off at five o’clock in the morning and he doesn’t get to just ignore it and go back to sleep, he actually has to get up and get ready and then leave the house, all in the next hour. It’s still dark outside, but Tony notes that there isn’t a cloud in the sky; by mid-afternoon, it’ll be perfect wedding weather.

Eating breakfast in the car on the way to Steve’s hotel takes quite a bit of effort, but he ends up running a few minutes behind due to his absolute lack of desire to yank his own lazy ass out of bed, and he doesn’t want to have the punctuality debate with Steve again. He texts him to let him know he’s downstairs waiting, and Steve steps out of the revolving doors immediately, like he was waiting right inside for Tony to pull up. He probably was.

“Morning,” Steve greets, sliding into the passenger side and taking a quick glance to the backseat to make sure Tony remembered their gift from where it was left at his apartment yesterday.

“It’s inhuman of you to be cheery this early,” Tony grumbles.

“I thought you might say that,” Steve grins, “so I have a wedding day present for you, too.”

He hands over a lidded paper cup with the hotel’s logo on it, and Tony knows exactly what the inside contents are. “You got me a coffee? I must be really predictable.” It’s an incredibly sweet gesture, but Tony doesn’t say that, because the words get caught in his throat when he tries to make them sound teasing.

“Or maybe I’m just getting good at predicting you,” Steve says. “If you want to turn on your death metal you can, because clearly you still need to wake up a little and today would be a really bad day to fall asleep at the wheel and get us into an accident.”

“You’re finally relinquishing the radio?”

“You bet.”

Tony turns on the loudest, scream-iest song he can find, and nudges the volume up as far as he dares, but Steve barely flinches. As much as he pretended to hate Tony’s taste, he actually doesn’t seem to be all that bothered by it.

“You’re not allowed to fall asleep either, by the way. I’ll get jealous and then I will, too,” Tony tells him, voice raised over the music. He vaguely hears Steve’s tinkling laugh, and darts his eyes over to smile at him.

Steve is smiling, too, and for a split second Tony thinks _maybe._

They’re forced to part ways pretty quickly once they arrive an hour later, passing off their gift to one of the event managers at the vineyard to make sure it’s put in the proper place for the reception while they’re busy doing other things. It’s a beautiful venue, even with the sun just now poking up over the horizon, alighting the rows of neatly-trimmed plants lining the footpath with a hazy glimmer. In the distance, Tony can see the pristinely aligned white folding chairs facing towards a silver arch that Sharon and Natasha will be getting married under in a few hours. There are workers scurrying around out there, placing programs on the seats and setting up audio equipment, presumably for playing the wedding march.

Inside the main building, the dining hall and adjoining suites have more of a lodge feel to it, complete with walls built from large stones and big chandeliers of some poor animal’s antlers. Tony remembers being kind of put off by that when he toured this place with Natasha, but she said the rustic feel was what she wanted, because it reminded her of Russia a little bit, and even if she left her old life behind, having some part of it at her wedding would be a good way to symbolize the new life she’s about to begin with Sharon. It was all very touching.

Steve heads down the hall to Sharon’s room, shooting Tony a thumbs-up for luck as he goes. As soon as Tony steps inside Tash’s room and is met with an explosion of makeup palettes and rejected accessories, he realizes he’ll need it.

“Thank god,” Natasha says, spinning around in her chair at the vanity to face Tony. “Which lip color? I think the red is too intense, but Sue says it brings out my complexion.”

“I think that Sue is the makeup artist that you hired and you should let her do her job.” Tony nods to the blonde woman standing over Tash’s shoulders, and she snatches both tubes of lipstick away.

“Fine. I’m not nervous, in case you were wondering, I just want to look good for the photos,” Tash continues loftily.

“Right, of course,” Tony snorts, looking around. “This isn’t a sign of nerves at all.”

“Just come here,” she snaps, patting the chair set out next to her. “Take my mind off all this. Tell me why you and Carol left the rehearsal dinner.”

“Oh, I really don’t think you care about-”

“Yes, I do,” she steamrolls. “I want to hear about it. Right now.”

“Okay,” he sighs. “You were completely right, I have a crush on Steve. Carol was pulling me out of panic mode, ‘cause I realized it in the middle of dinner.”

“I knew it,” Tash says, “I backed off because I thought you were getting uncomfortable, but I totally knew it. Alright, so what next? Are you together now?”

“What?” Tony sputters. “No. Definitely not. I haven’t told him, because he doesn’t like me back.” Natasha’s similar to Carol in that she doesn’t take any of Tony’s bullshit excuses. She gives him an incredulous look. “Fine, I’m _worried_ he doesn’t like me back. I guess there’s no… empirical evidence either way.”

“Look, Steve’s a timid guy when it comes to certain things. Look at his career, we all know he should be taking a risk with art but he’s not. He’s using sensibility as a disguise so that he doesn’t have to change his ways,” Tash explains. “If you want anything to happen, you’ll probably have to make the first move.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to.”

She scoffs. “Whatever, don’t take my advice. Go over there and pick which of Peggy’s rings I should wear for my something old.”

Eventually, the guests start showing up as the shuttles arrive and the rest of the bridesmaids make their way into Natasha’s suite as the finishing touches are being put on. Her hair is left down, but the front pieces are twisted into an intricate braid, meeting in the back of her head and giving off the image of a crown. She opted against a veil, but there are little white flowers tucked under the braid, a stark contrast to the flaming shade of her hair.

Her dress makes Tony cry for a second time. The bodice is fitted, but lacy, combining modern and vintage styles together, and it slowly flares out as it reaches the floor. There was originally a bow going around her waist, but it was ugly and so not Natasha’s style so they had the seamstress rip it off. 

It makes Tony feel better that Jan cries, too, especially when Tash steps into the heels that Jan lent her to be her something borrowed. They’re hidden under the dress, but they elevate Natasha’s height so much that she is officially taller than Tony like this. He only hopes that she remembers all the practice they did walking in them and doesn’t trip going down the aisle, which would be embarrassing for everyone involved. Of course, if anyone on all of the Earth can make a fall look graceful, it’s Natasha.

“Do you know how happy I am for you?” Tony whispers to her, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

“You always have been,” she says, intertwining her fingers in his. “Thank you. For that. There weren’t many people in my life who were, before. They just- wanted things from me. But you showed me what real friendship is like, you know? I have no idea how I’ll ever repay you for that.”

Tony is tearing up again, and so is she, so he quickly uses his free hand to wipe it away before she ruins her makeup. “You go on and have a good life. The best life. And there’s no way you won’t, not with Sharon at your side. If I taught you friendship, then… you guys taught me love. Really. I hope I find someone as perfect for me as you are for each other.”

“I think you know that you already have,” Natasha says, smiling sadly. “Be brave, Tony. Nothing good happens if you just sit around. Do you remember that I rejected Shar the first time she asked me out?”

He chokes out a laugh. “Yeah, and then you immediately regretted it.”

“Exactly. I don’t have any regrets anymore, T. One day, I want you to feel certain that you don’t either.”

There’s a knock at the door, and when Tony opens it, the event manager reminds them they need to be at their places in five minutes, so they start trucking across the lawn, Tony holding up the bottom of Tash’s dress so it doesn’t get dirty before they arrive. Sharon’s party is already there, but she is conspicuously absent, probably hiding behind the bushes somewhere, although neither her nor Natasha is particularly superstitious.

Steve is there, looking radiant with a red boutonniere, the chosen color of the wedding. He breaks into a dazzling smile when he sees Tash, coming to give her a hug before she takes her position at the back of the line. Tony and Steve are walking together right before her, as the best men, and the rest of the bridesmaids line up how they’re supposed to, arm in arm, two at a time.

“You’re gonna kill it,” Tony tells Natasha, the last thing he says to her as an unmarried woman.

Her face is stuck in an ear-splitting grin. “Oh, I know.”

The music cues up, and Tony hurriedly takes his place next to Steve. They link together, and Steve leans down to whisper in his ear so they won’t be disruptive, ever the kind gentleman. “Sharon almost jumped out the window with nerves, I think.”

Tony keeps his voice similarly quiet. “Really? Well, Natasha was calm and collected the whole time. Or at least, that’s what I’m supposed to tell people.”

Smashing his face into Tony’s shoulder to quiet his laugh, Steve gives Tony’s bicep a squeeze with his other hand. When he pulls away, Tony feels bereft, as if Steve’s touch was fire on his ice-cold skin, and he craves to have it back. But Steve is straightening up, and the coordinator is waving at them to go, so Tony plasters a big smile on his face that surprisingly isn’t difficult to conjure, and they walk out into the aisle.

The eyes of a hundred guests are on them, but Tony doesn’t feel nervous or anxious under their gaze. He has Steve next to him, keeping with his pace by shortening his normal strides in half, and his comforting presence is like a safety blanket.

Parting ways when they reach the altar, Tony and Steve move to their respective sides of the arch. They’re directly facing each other, though, and they have matching dizzy smiles. Steve winks at him, and Tony’s heart skips a beat.

Natasha is as poised and regal as always coming down the aisle, completely steady on her feet and holding a bouquet of soft pink flowers. There’s no one escorting her, because she doesn’t feel the need to be escorted, instead, going alone proves that this is a decision _she’s_ making, knowing it’s the best one imaginable and not needing anyone else to guide her there. Always so independent, but never alone, either; Tony steps forward to take her bouquet, and she thanks him quietly.

Next comes Sharon, donned by her mother on her side. For her, having Peggy there to give her away is a thank you for all the years spent raising her to be such an amazing woman, and Sharon kisses her cheek before joining hands with Natasha. The priest steps up, the music stops, everyone takes their seats, and these beautiful people that Tony loves so dearly begin their life together with two simple words.

* * *

“Okay, before you guys go in,” Tony says, halting Sharon and Tash as the rest of the bridal party continues through the doors into the reception hall. “Steve and I sort of want to preface our surprise gift, so that you understand it before you see it.”

“God, Tony, don’t tell me you blew up our childhood photos and posted them around the room,” Natasha jokes. “I would literally kill you for that.”

“Well,” Steve pauses. “No, but that’s, uh, eerily close. Now I’m kind of worried you won’t like it.”

“They will,” Tony chastises. “So, you’ll probably be able to tell which part he did and which part I did-- duh, ‘cause I’m not an artist--”

“Oh my god, did you guys paint us something?” Sharon gaps. “Steve, if you did that, I’m going to cry so much and it’ll be your fault.”

“No! Let me explain--”

“What Tony is trying to say,” Steve cuts in swiftly, his arm winding around Tony’s shoulders casually, “is that it was a labor of love on both our parts. I know I’m not always the best with words, so for me, at least, this was a way to put my love for you guys into something tangible, and memorable. It was Tony’s idea, a brilliant one, and… yeah. I had a lot of fun making it.”

“It’s sort of supposed to symbolize how you two are, like, great on your own, you’ve both accomplished so much in your lives and are such amazing women, but at the same time, you were always meant to be together. To support each other, and love each other. Personally, I think that having someone in your corner- it pushes you to do even better things,” Tony describes. Natasha tilts her head at him, the corner of her mouth twisted ever so slightly, like she knows exactly what he means even if he can’t say it quite right.

“So without further ado…” Steve says, pushing open the hall doors just as someone inside announces on the microphone, _‘Friends and family, may I present for the first time, Mrs. and Mrs. Romanoff-Carter!’_ And hanging above the stage, in perfect view for all to see, is Steve and Tony’s baby.

The frame that Tony constructed is made of a thousand little gears he bought from ACE Hardware, much to the checkout boy’s confusion. Meticulously spray-painted golden, from far away it looks like puzzle pieces fitting flawlessly together, although up close it gives more the impression of a haphazard amalgam. Nestled inside it is Steve’s painting, highlighted by the reflection of the metal parts against each other, showcasing two little girls. One is tall and blonde, dressed in overalls with scrapes and bruises on her legs, sitting in a picturesque forest and plucking at a bright red flower growing up in the ground right in front of her. The other has crimson hair pulled into a tight bun, and is hidden away in a snowy wonderland, standing up on the point of her ballerina shoes and stretching towards the shining sun, her back in a perfect curve and a tense expression of concentration on her face. They’re waiting for each other, reaching for each other.

Tony and Steve share a look of joy and pride, beyond relieved that it came together so well. Tony notices that Steve’s arm is still encircling his shoulder, but doesn’t move to push it away. Instead, he inches ever so slightly closer, slowly and hesitantly placing one of his hands on the small of Steve’s back. Steve beams down at him.

Meanwhile, Sharon and Natasha are both sobbing outright, each grabbing a handkerchief from the first person who offers and dabbing their eyes with it. “You two made that?” Sharon asks, her voice tinny from crying. “It’s so beautiful. I’m going to hang it above the fireplace, oh my god.”

Natasha doesn’t say it in so many words, but Tony can tell how much she loves it, too, because she’s tucking into Sharon’s side, like the painting reminds her that she doesn’t have to long to find her person anymore-- her person is right here. Tash looks back at Tony, and her eyes are misty. She nods, once, and doesn’t have to tell him what it means.

“I think we did pretty good,” Steve says, hushed but loud enough to be heard over the pop music playing.

“You’re an amazing artist, Steve,” Tony tells him. “You’re really, really talented. I hope the reason that you’re staying at your boring job is really about finances, like you claim, and not because you think you’re not good enough.”

Steve shrugs. “This is a painting for my cousin. It’s not- this would never be hung up in a museum, or anything.”

“That might be a good thing,” Tony jokes. “If it was in a museum, I would never go see it. This way, I can enjoy it every time I go over to Sharon and Tash’s to pester them.”

The attempt to divert the conversation and get Steve’s mind off his insecurities works. He laughs, shoulders shaking and thus jostling Tony a little where they’re still joined. He pulls away from Steve’s side when he realizes, not wanting to risk an awkward moment where Steve shoves him off.

“I’m gonna go get food,” Tony says, to make stepping away even more casual. The reception is buffet-style, with all sorts of different food options to appease the picky, and Tony has had his eye on the make-your-own tacos since they did food tasting months ago. “Hope to see you on the dancefloor later.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Steve replies, watching him go.

Catching up with Jan and Hank in the buffet line, Tony jumps into their conversation and ends up sticking with them for a while, once he finds out that Hank is a sort of scientist himself. Any opportunity that presents itself to talk about his projects with someone who’ll understand, Tony takes, even scribbling out visuals for Hank as he describes his current work with alloys. He kind of knew he would be mostly hanging around with people he knows at this reception, given that a lot of the other guests in attendance are Sharon’s extended family, and he’s not always great with new people. The Stark charm gene skipped over him, he thinks.

Eventually, it’s speech time, and Tony has rehearsed his in front of the bathroom mirror so many times he knows it by heart. There will be no going off script romcom style, after he spent so many hours writing and editing and re-editing this speech.

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Tony. I’ve been best friends with Natasha since we were eighteen years old, which I guess is only seven years ago, but feels more like my whole life. I knew I wanted to be friends with her the moment we met, in college, when she hacked into my computer and copied all my lecture notes so she wouldn’t have to hand write anything,” he begins, and the crowd chuckles just as he figured they would. “We bonded over our music taste, our love for caffeinated beverages, and Stuart, the human form of the word nuisance, who was in our computer science class and never brought a pencil, never asked a smart question, but always made sure to flirt with her on the way out. Friendship, platonic love, happens like that-- something small brings you together, and slowly you notice that you fit well in other aspects, and then before you know it, you’re the bro of honor at her wedding.

“I think romantic love happens like that, too. Sharon and Tash, at first glance, seem perfect together. They have so many shared interests, and hobbies, and they’re never bored around each other, nor could anyone be around them. But that’s because of that initial slow build up. Without that, they wouldn’t have those things in common, or even the things they still disagree on, but have a good time fighting about.” Pause for more laughter.

“At first, they were two completely different people, Natasha in particular not really willing to open her heart to anyone. They had that spark, though-- they mutually hated the Skrulls, this little local college band I dragged Tash out to see one night. Everyone in the crowd was a fan except for the two of them, and it was at that moment that their process of becoming, truly, soulmates, began. I’ve been lucky enough to watch it all happen, and I can’t wait to see what they’ll do together next. I love you guys.”

Tony sets down the microphone to polite clapping and even a little cheering, which makes him feel pretty good about what he said. He gets a group hug with Sharon and Tash, and a kiss on the side of the head from the latter. As he returns to his seat, he nonchalantly bends over Steve’s shoulder, and whispers, “Beat that.” Steve grins up at him, and pulls a little note card out of his pocket.

“You’re on,” he says, before stepping up to the microphone and clearing his throat. “Hi everyone. I see a lot of familiar faces in the crowd, but I’ll say anyways, I’m Steve Rogers, Sharon’s cousin… You know, I’m actually not quite sure why she asked me to be her best man. We’ve known each other since we were little, sure, but now, she lives here, and I’m still back in Brooklyn. I don’t get many vacation days, so I rarely come up to see her, and I’ve actually only met Natasha a handful of times before this weekend. So why me?

“The only answer I could come up with was that maybe it was a thank you. When we were fourteen, in our freshman year at an overcrowded, underfunded New York public high school, she got her first boyfriend, this guy Logan. He was a perfectly nice guy, but she confessed to me, in our blanket fort for cousins only, that she just didn’t like him very much. Now, I had little to no information to go on, but I answered back, ‘Sharon, I’ve read about this thing on the Internet called a lesbian, and I think you might be it.’ Turns out, I was right, but we didn’t know that for sure until a few years later.” Tony chuckles along with the crowd at the story, turning to look at Sharon, who’s blushing and hiding a smile behind her hand, yet looking at Steve with inquisitive eyes. No one has any idea where he’s going with this.

“So, yeah, maybe I contributed some small part into Sharon ending up with Natasha. I don’t know how the world works. But, the more I thought about it, I realized that any advice I ever gave her, any favor I did for her, she repaid ten times over. This weekend, I met someone for the first time who’s already become one of my best friends, and it’s because of her. Even today, thinking about the painting that I did, there, and how happy it made me to do it-- like, there’s no way I can’t try and pursue art now. I have to, because there’s nothing else in the world that makes me that content. And I was holding on to my boring day job for so long, and I didn’t listen when anyone told me to stop, including Tony, who made many attempts. But it took Sharon, watching her be so overjoyed with my work that it literally made her cry, for me to _know_.

“Sharon, I have no idea what my life would be like without you in it to set me straight, and I guess I’m still not sure why you picked me. I am so, so, beyond grateful, though. To be able to share even some small part of your life, has been the greatest joy of mine. And when you inevitably run into marital troubles, because everyone does, you are more than welcome to come to me and ask for advice-- even if you don’t take it, since you’re smarter than me anyways.”

The room erupts into applause, and Sharon runs to Steve to wrap him up in her arms, whispering something private, just for them, into his ear. Tony, on the other hand, is stunned into silence. He’s pretty sure Steve meant _him_ when he mentioned a new best friend, which in a way cements Tony’s theory that Steve has only platonic feelings for him. But he also talked about finally making the choice to try and make a career out of his art, something that Tony knows scares him so much. Steve is making the choice to be brave, to do something risky, on the off chance that it’ll work out and be the best thing he ever did. Tony remembers Natasha’s words, and suddenly, he’s overcome with the urge to talk to Steve.

Once everything reverts to normal, the band back to playing upbeat dance music and crowd slowly filtering from their seats to the buffet to the dance floor and so on, Tony notices Steve slipping out the side door, onto the little balcony that overlooks the vineyard. Even though Carol is yelling at him to come dance with her, he motions that he will in a minute and then heads out after Steve. _Here goes nothing_ , he thinks, steeling his nerves.

Steve is bent over the railing, looking pensieve, when Tony pushes the door open and for a moment, the sounds of the party leak out into the peaceful night air. “Just me,” he says, when Steve glances over his shoulder, before shutting it again and coming to stand next to him. “Thanks for the shout out in your speech.”

Huffing out a laugh, Steve straightens up, facing Tony. “Yeah, well, you sort of inspired me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I totally didn’t have any of that written when I came this weekend,” Steve says. “It was last night at the rehearsal dinner, after you left, that it sort of all came to me. I was talking to Sharon, and I guess she sort of-- saw something, on my face, and then before I knew it I was spilling my guts to her. And she gave me really good advice, and then I got to thinking about all the other times I would’ve been lost without her, and the rest sort of spiralled.”

“It was a really good speech,” Tony says, nudging him. “Better than mine.”

“I know, we should’ve put money down,” Steve jokes.

“But I don’t get it,” Tony continues. “What does that conversation have to do with me?”

Steve takes a deep breath, like he’s preparing himself for an uphill battle. “It was about you,” he admits quietly. “I was telling her… that I liked you. You know. As… more.” The wind rushes out of Tony’s lungs, leaving him gasping, and he feels unsteady on his feet. Steve is saying the one thing that Tony wants him to, so badly. His body shakes as he takes a half step towards Steve. “She said that it wasn’t crazy for me to like you so fast. She said she knew in a second, with Natasha, and that if you want me too, we should just… do it. Try it, and see--”

In a split second of clarity, Tony thinks, _he’s stealing my thunder,_ and then leans forward and kisses him. It’s a bit off-center, with Tony being so much shorter than Steve, and he was in the middle of talking so his mouth is kind of still open, but then Steve is inhaling sharply and winding an arm around Tony’s waist to adjust his position and their mouths are slotting together and it’s perfect.

Hands immediately flying up to bury themselves in Steve’s hair, Tony pushes as close to him as he can, wanting to feel his entire body against his own. Steve’s free hand drops to his neck, encircling the back of it and angling it up just a bit more as his tongue dips into Tony’s mouth. Tony’s can’t breathe, can’t think, he feels completely surrounded and all-encompassed by Steve, Steve, _Steve…_

There are no interruptions, or hesitations, or attempts to pull away other than to get the necessary amount of oxygen before diving back in, and even then, they stay close, foreheads touching and lips only centimeters away from each other.

“God, Tony,” Steve mutters in between kisses, chest heaving like a fish desperate for water. Instead, he’s desperate for Tony, and boy, is that a nice thought.

“Natasha said-” Tony begins, wrenching his mouth away from Steve’s so they don’t get caught up in each other again. He wants to say this. “She said I should be brave. That if I wanted you, I should just tell you, instead of assuming you didn’t want me too.”

“I want you so much, Tony,” he replies, voice wrecked with emotion. Tony knows he did that to him, and it’s one of the proudest moments of his life. “I’ve been gone since you teased me about my showering habits.”

Giggling, Tony bites his lip. “But you said-- at the aquarium? That we’re friends.”

Steve shakes his head, cupping the sides of Tony’s face in his ginormous palms, using the pad of his thumb to stop Tony from gnawing his lip. “I was deflecting. I mean, ‘cause this is crazy, right? It’s great that these feelings are reciprocal, I’m so happy, you have no idea, but it’s been three days. We’re both definitely, certifiably crazy.”

“Maybe,” Tony laughs. “But it feels like it’s been a lot longer than that. Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does,” Steve whispers slowly, moving back in. Tony meets him there, and this time, he’s not breaking away for anything. “Do you think they would hate us if we left right now?”

Except that.

* * *

When his alarm goes off the next morning, Tony almost screams in frustration, thinking maybe he forgot to turn it off after yesterday. Then he remembers they have a family only post-wedding breakfast today, after which Sharon and Natasha will be leaving for their honeymoon, so it kind of is important that he be there, even if his entire body is sore and achy for some reason and it’s making him really not want to get out of bed.

Someone groans, and a strong arm tightens around Tony’s waist, leading to his brain suddenly unfogging as recognition clicks into place. Steve stayed the night at his place, and it brings a sappy, uncontrollable smile to his face. He buries his face into the pillow to hide it as Steve slowly sits up just enough to look down at him.

“What’s that alarm for?” he asks, his words slurred as he rubs sleep from his eyes with his other fist not clutched into Tony’s side. The early morning sun streaming in from Tony’s long-faded blackout curtains catches on his soft blond hair, giving the impression of a halo resting atop his head. Tony thinks it’s very applicable.

“Breakfast with your aunts and uncles and the ladies,” Tony reminds him. “We both have to go, especially after our disappearing act last night.”

A slow grin spreads across Steve’s face as the memories dawn on him as well. “I would risk making Aunt Peg mad if it meant I got to stay in bed with you all day.”

“That’s so cheesy!” Tony laughs. “You’re going to be one of _those_ doting boyfriends, aren’t you? Like, always keeping your arm over my shoulder in public and waxing poetic about the dreamy shade of my eyes as pillowtalk?”

Steve beams even wider, if that’s possible, and collapses back down onto the bed, pulling Tony up from his little spoon position to sprawl over Steve’s chest, nestling under his chin and meeting his eyes. “Boyfriend, huh?” Steve asks quietly, like Tony’s answer to this question means everything in the world.

“I mean, if you want,” Tony shrugs, playing it off just in case, although he figures there’s not much he won’t do to keep Steve around after last night. He thinks Steve might be feeling the same, if the twinkle in his expression is anything to go by.

Tony is struck, suddenly, by the image of Natasha looking at Sharon; the one he wanted for himself so badly. Steve is looking at him like that, now.

“I want,” Steve confirms, leaning forward to peck Tony’s lips again. He chases it, though, pulling Steve back in, deepening the kiss and straddling Steve’s abs to get a better angle. His hands fall to Tony’s ass as if on instinct, yanking him up just the tiniest bit more. Tony goes wild for it, moving to kiss his way down Steve’s neck, planting his lips on every beautiful inch of it. He wants to do this to Steve every day.

But he can’t. Because Steve lives in New York, and he lives here. Tony’s panicked reasoning to Carol about why he and Steve could never happen has been mostly shot down by now, but that’s the one sticky issue that remains. He slides off of Steve, and inches away just enough to get his breathing under control and clear his mind. They have to talk about this, it’s important.

“Why’d you stop?” Steve complains, pushing himself up into a fully seated position, his arm pressing against Tony’s. “Something wrong? You know I get ready quickly, we won’t be late.”

He nips at Tony’s jaw playfully, but Tony pushes him away gently, just enough to get him to stop, but not make it seem unwelcome. Lord knows none of Steve’s advances will ever be unwelcome for Tony. “We have to talk about something. Honestly, and openly, okay? No getting offended, or angry. Promise?”

“I promise,” Steve agrees, searching his eyes for the problem.

“I live in Boston. You live in New York,” Tony says, as plainly as possible. “I want to be your boyfriend, but--” he shrugs, “--that’s gonna suck, won’t it?”

Steve doesn’t say anything for a moment, thinking. Whatever conclusion he comes too, though, it’s apparently final, because he nods his head once sharply and then pulls Tony into his lap, turning his chin to make direct eye contact. “You’re right. I guess you’ll have to go apartment hunting for me, then. Sorry, but I’m literally never staying the night here again, it was just our only option because you had lube and I didn’t. Natasha is right, this place is a complete hazard and I don’t want to be barbequed while I’m asleep.”

“Hang on. What?” Tony blinks, slow to catch on to Steve’s logic there.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he replies, dazzling smile taking over his face like the Cheshire Cat. “I’m going to move to Boston.”

“Steve,” Tony says sternly, already being shushed by his boyfriend. “No, stop. What? You can’t move here just for me. Brooklyn is your home, your life is there, your job is there.”

“Not anymore,” Steve reasons. “I thought we already established that I’m quitting my job. Boston has an art scene just like New York’s, I can do that anywhere. And I want to be wherever you are, now. Plus, being close to Sharon will be nice, and Sam and Bucky are always travelling anyways, I barely see them. I like your friends, I can see myself hanging out with them. This makes perfect sense to me.”

Tony is at a loss for words. He’s never even had a boyfriend willing to pack him lunch for work, let alone move to an entirely differently state for him. It’s absolutely insane for Steve to be suggesting this, really-- but then again, his explanation makes sense. He seems sure about it. If there’s ever a time to start over in a new area, it’s when you’re transitioning job fields. And honestly, hasn’t their entire relationship been a bit spur of the moment, despite Tony’s heart telling him that it’s been waiting a while for Steve to come along?

Carefully, cautiously, Tony nods. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, sure. Move to Boston. I- I would love that, you know I would.”

“Then it’s settled,” Steve agrees, as if he always knew Tony was going to say yes. Maybe he did. “I’ll go back as scheduled tonight, and I’ll pack up my stuff, get my ducks in a row, while you look through Zillow and send me anything that looks like I won’t get slaughtered living there, and then in a couple weeks…”

“God, if this is a dream, don’t wake me up,” Tony mumbles, already leaning back in to Steve like a gravitational pull is demanding he do so.

They’re late to breakfast, and it’s surprisingly not Tony’s fault.

Steve is dressed in last night’s clothes, albeit with the suit jacket and tie discarded, and there’s no way they both don’t look rumpled and disoriented. A neon sign is practically flashing over their heads, telling everyone who sees them exactly what they’ve been up to the last twelve hours.

They’re also holding hands, which Tony takes the most pleasure in. Natasha’s eyebrows shoot up when she sees it, clearly not ever thinking that Tony would actually take her advice and come out the other side successful. He casually takes his place at the table next to her, while Steve slips in directly opposite from him, enclosed by family members on both sides. Now would be a really bad time to play footsie, but Tony still feels the urge.

“Sharon and I called it the night of the bachelorette party,” Natasha tells him under her breath.

Tony winks at her, happy to be able to prove her wrong for the first time in the history of their friendship. “He liked me before that. So, you lose. Whatever you bet I think should be mine and Steve’s, for his new apartment fund.”

“I’m sorry?” she blinks. “What new apartment?”

Reaching for a chocolate pastry in the middle of the table, Tony takes a small bite before answering. “His new apartment here in Boston.”

Tash chokes on a sip of cranberry juice. “You know, I really shouldn’t be surprised.” She leans back in her chair, looking Tony up and down, impressed with him. “Congratulations, Tony. You’ve finally found a man-- probably the only one-- able to keep up with your crazy.”

Across the table, Steve acts like he’s not listening in to them, engaged in a conversation about the different types of crab with his Uncle Michael, but he’s smirking. “Actually, something tells me I’ll be the one trying to keep up with him,” Tony confesses to Natasha.

“Lord, was that a euphemism?” She lowers her voice even more. “Is he a total bull in the sack? He seems the type.”

Now there’s no way Steve isn’t paying attention, because he coughs a little as he shovels a piece of bacon into his mouth. His eyes dart towards Tony, sharing an unspoken secret. “That’s for me to know, and you to never find out.”

“I see how it is.” Natasha narrows her eyes at him. “You’re not getting any juicy honeymoon details, then.”

“No!” Tony gasps. “You have to, I live vicariously through you, remember?”

“Well, it looks like that won’t be necessary anymore. You’re going to be having some adventures of your own from now on.”

Tony looks across the table at Steve, and Steve is already looking at him, that same dreamy gaze from this morning plastered on to his face. Tony looks at Steve, and knows for sure, down to his bones, that he’s looking at the rest of his life.

“Yeah. I guess I will be.”

**Author's Note:**

> Writing the speeches was the hardest part of this entire thing, can you tell?
> 
> My tumblr is avastrrs, come give me a shout if you liked it!


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